The Artisans (25 page)

Ben and I sit together in silence. Not in the Palm Room this time. I wish. We’re in his dorm room. The place smells of antiseptic and bad air freshener. He lies in bed, smacking his dry lips together. I cringe at the pasty sound but don’t let my aversion show. Instead, I offer my stepfather another glass of water, his third since my arrival.

His hand trembles as he accepts the cup. Small, red spider-like veins spread under his skin. I can’t remember if I saw those on my last visit. His color is off, too. A shiver goes through me, like someone walking over a grave. My gaze travels over his face. His skin has an orange tint, as though he rubbed himself with cheap self-tanner.

“Don’t fuss over me, Raven. Sit with your old man and tell me more about your doin’s at that fancy-pants mansion.”

My rump hits the seat of the straight-backed chair near his bed. I cross my arms. “I’d rather talk about you and Mr. Maddox getting all chatty down here and me knowing nothing about it.” With my tough-girl voice locked and loaded, my feigned anger is pretty convincing. Until a smile breaks through, giving me away.

“Now girl, don’t get riled.” He scratches his elbow and fidgets. A sure sign he’s guilty of something. “I was angry at the boy and needed to speak my mind. I’ll get to that, but looky here; I got some other stuff to say first.” He pulls some papers out from beneath his sheets.
What the heck is that?
“I wrote it all out, so the words will come out how I want ’em to. You just sit there, and listen, and let me say this my way, all right?”

“You’re the man.” It’s sort of cute, how bossy he’s being when he’s never been able to take charge of anything before.

“First, I need to tell you about your dad. Your real one. And if I ain’t too tuckered, I’ll tell you more. Otherwise, well, it’ll have to keep.” He leans over, takes his reading glasses off the table, and pops them on his big, red nose. With a cough to clear his throat, he readjusts the paperwork in his hands. “Here we go.

“This is the story of your birth, as your mother told it to me. Your granddaddy, your mama’s father, was a Cordwainer.”

“A what?”

“A fine maker of hand-sewn shoes.” He glares at me over his glasses. “Don’t interrupt. Anyway, he worked hard and was honest, but he wasn’t earning enough to support his family. One night a man came to the house. Tired and half-starved, he asked for any odd chores he might do to earn some money. Your granddaddy explained he couldn’t pay him, but he’d be glad to share a meal and give him the garage apartment to sleep in for the night.

“Early the next day, your granddaddy went to finish the work he’d started the day before. When he went into his shop, and found the shoes already made and sitting on the table. Seems your father had done it to repay the old man for his charity. As your granddaddy studied the shoes, there was not one false stitch in the whole job. He’d never seen such craftsmanship, and done so quickly.

“The same day a customer came in, and he willingly paid a higher price than usual for them. With the money, your granddaddy hired your father and bought extra supplies. Soon more buyers came, paying high prices for his goods. And so it went on for some time, and your granddaddy soon became thriving and well-off again.”

I squirm in my chair, dying to ask about a hundred questions, but I keep mute.

Ben squints, focusing on the next typed words. The vocabulary isn’t his. I wonder who helped him write his speech. “Your mama used to sit up nights with your father, assisting him, watching him work. He was charming, and talented, and …well, Ida was an innocent. He seduced her right under her daddy’s own roof.”

“What the hell?” My eyes narrow. “How could he do that?”

Ben’s head falls back, and he stares at the ceiling. “I’m never going to get through this with your infernal question asking. And don’t swear.” A long pause. “They sort of fell in together, but kept it secret on account of your dad being so much older and an employee and all.”

“Seriously?”

He frowns. “So I was told. Your father was a clever man, gifted even. It’s where you get your talents, but unlike you, he was selfish, and conceited. Seems he was caught messing around with another girl in town, younger even than your mama, but she wouldn’t believe it.”

“That lowdown son of a—”

“Raven!”

“Sorry.” I hunch down and shut up.

“To continue … When your mama found out she was pregnant with you, she was overjoyed. She thought he’d settle down and quit cheating. They’d get married. Have a big church wedding. She told him that night she was carrying his child. You. The next day, he disappeared.

“His leaving devastated your mama. Living in the Bible Belt invites as much judgment as it does compassion. Her parents only wanted to shield her from shame, and hoped she might marry someone else. Not long afterward, I came to work in their shop as a new hire. Though I was older, too, I was madly in love with Ida and she had little choice but to accept my proposal. Never wanting you to feel you was any less than the other kids, your mama made sure you knew nothing of your real father.”

I blink. Hard. And shake my head. “She
lied
to me?”

“She protected you. All you need to know is that you’re special. Can’t you see that?”

With a surge of anger, I lean forward. “Oh, I’m special all right. On top of everything else, I’m the bastard daughter of a—”

“No, child.” The hurt in Ben’s eyes makes me want to punch myself in the face. I never meant to slight him.

“I’m sorry. It’s the shock. I didn’t mean it, and —”

“You have every right to be upset. I don’t blame you.”

My head falls into my hands, and I groan. The floor is spotless. My gaze follows the joining seams of shiny linoleum as my frustration leaks away. “I’m not angry, not really. I can’t judge Mother, and you know I love you, it’s just …” I always thought I was wanted. “I’m surprised is all.”

“I’m sorry, about your father, honey, but you was loved. You think on what I’ve said, and try to forgive me and your mama for keeping the truth from you for so long.” My head lifts and meets his glassy-eyed gaze.

“There’s nothing to forgive, Ben. All right? Forget about him. He has nothing to do with us. I just don’t understand why God lets bad things happen.”

“What bad things? You mean her dying, my drinking … you talking about you?”

“All of it, I guess.”

“You, listen to me, gal. Your mama always said if God were small enough for her to understand, he wouldn’t be big enough for her to worship. Remember Isaiah 61:3, ‘God brings beauty from ashes.’ It was her favorite, because of you.”

Throat tight, I swallow. “I’ll remember.”

“Good.” His smile is weak as he nods. “There’s something else needs saying.”

“Okay.” My neck stiffens, bracing for whatever he’ll say next.

“Here’s the thing. The first time I called Maddox, I wanted him to come down here, so I could take his head off. I was angry, blamed him for taking you away from me, and putting me in here. He stood there, saying nothing, while I yelled at him until I collapsed in my chair. I’d worn myself out in a passion. And you know what that boy did?”

My chin digs into the palm of my hand as I speak. “No idea.”

“He thanked me. Actually
thanked
me for allowing you to stay with him. Called it ‘the privilege’ of knowing you.” Ben makes quote marks in the air with his fingers as he’d seen me do a thousand times growing up. “Promised he’d care for you, that no harm would come to you, and then he left. That surprised the hound out of me. And later on, it got me to thinking.”

My head tilts. “About what, Pops?”

“That’s why I called Maddox a second time. See, he really seems to genuinely admire your abilities. He’s rich, right?” I lower my hands and straighten, not at all happy about where his train of thought is heading. “I wondered if his company gives college scholarships or if he might have a place for you after high school, in one of his fancy clothing stores …”

“Oh, Ben you didn’t. I’m not going begging to the likes of Gideon Maddox for a job or school. Not for anything.” I stand. “We don’t need him.”

He drops his papers on his lap. “We might.”

I walk to the bed and ease myself down next to him, taking care not to jostle his IV. My voice lowers to a whisper. “What are you saying?”

“After my stay in the hospital, the doctors ran some tests. Seems all my hard living has caught up to me. Liver’s shot, sweetie. I talked to Maddox because I want you to have something to hang on to.”

“We have each other. You just focus on getting well. We’ll figure the rest out later, once you’re out of here.”

“No.” He takes my hand, gripping stronger than I thought him capable. “No.” His voice softens. “You’ll need a place to go, sweetheart. After I’m gone.”

When I roll over, two eyes stare back at me, one sky blue, the other sea green. Soft morning light lifts the gloom off the night in my bedroom, like a blotter lifts ink from a page. An odd peace fills my spirit.

“You’re here,” I say.

“I’m here.” Gideon lies on his side, facing me. The scarring around his eye shows silver in this light. He wears no shirt. Red, drawstring flannel hugs his waist.

My hand slides across his smooth chest. I close my eyes. Sinewy cords roll under soft skin. “I’m dreaming.”

“Yes, you are,” he murmurs. There’s a smile in his voice. He leans closer, pressing against my palm. He grasps my fingers in his, pinning me with his stare. I feel the ridged muscles in his torso flex as he moves. The breath I release is quick and sharp.

“We can’t be together. You get that, right?”

He lifts a lock of my hair off my cheek. “No.”

“I’m damaged.”

“You’re beautiful.” The raw look in his eyes hollows my stomach.

“I’m broken.”

His fingers trace the outline of my mouth. “Not to me.”

“But I can’t love anyone, not anymore.”

“Oh, you love. Deeply.” His eyes flare. “You won me with a love that binds my heart to yours—irrevocably.” He kisses my forehead, my nose. The muscles in my stomach tighten. “Chains softer than silk, stronger than iron.”

My gaze drops to my fingers on his chest.

“Don’t do that. Don’t dismiss me. I love you, Raven. Do you hear me? I
love
you.”

“Raven …”

Light floods my room, forcing me awake. I growl and roll over, bumping Edgar. “Get thee behind me Satan, or whoever you are. If you don’t close those blinds, I will kick you in the shins.” The heavy scent of hickory-smoked bacon assaults my nose. While the sweet aroma softens morning grumpiness, my pride hangs on with all ten fingers.

“We really are going to have to do something with that mouth of yours,” Gideon remarks. “I have a few ideas, but I’m willing to wait until after breakfast.”

“Go away.” I reach under Edgar’s chin and scratch until he purrs.

“Tsk, tsk. Not happening.” I hear him push the drapes open. “Besides, I’ll not allow you to toy with my affections. Not after the way you clung to me all yesterday on our ride home, and then last night … While I hate the underlying reason, I can’t deny the effects for me were rather nice.”

It’s true. The news of Ben’s declining health, after telling me I was illegitimate finished me off. Gideon gently led me to the car. He wrapped an arm around my shoulder while I lay my head on his chest and wept quietly all the way home. Once there, he followed me up to my room, and asked Jenny to bring a light supper upstairs. My mysterious benefactor sat reading me poetry in ‘his chair’ until he left without a word around midnight. I’m not sure I’ll ever understand the guy.

“Don’t coddle me, Gideon,” I mumble into my pillow. “And be sure to say what you really think while you’re at it.”

“I will.”

I roll over and rub my eyes. Edgar steps on top of my chest, but he’s too heavy. With a sigh, I sit up and plop him in my lap for some kitty ear scratching. Gideon stops what he’s doing, stares at us, and it hits me. I’m not in my bed. “What the …” The room is enormous. There’s a brick fireplace across from the black, four-poster bed I’m sitting on. Rich, dark furnishings, sage-green bedding … “This is your room?”